2 AM Valentine
by Collie Parkillo
Summary: Miles Edgeworth is alone on Valentine's Day, again. It's not nearly as funny as the premise suggests. [narumitsu, jfa verse]


Edgeworth was alone on Valentine's Day, again. Perhaps it was supposed to be some kind of poetic justice, but it didn't feel the way it had last year. Last year, Larry had patted him on the back and laughed because his girlfriend had broken up with him on Valentine's Day of all days, and Edgeworth had laughed and hadn't felt quite so silly about being a grown man upset about being alone on Valentine's Day.

This year there was no one but him and the rented apartment in Italy-a place he'd never been before this year, a place he knew no one would look for him-and the TV providing background white noise. His eyes felt heavy from having stayed up the whole night, and the bright lettering on the screen of his phone read 2:00 AM. It'd been only an hour of Valentine's Day and here he was, staring at the plaster in the ceiling and reminiscing. The whole running away thing had been awfully angsty and clichéd to begin with, and this only worsened the situation.

He could hear the couple who lived in the tenement below him arguing, but not in a particularly angry way. The woman was teasing the man for momentarily forgetting how to file taxes, and the man shot back that she was unable to recognize Van Gogh from Monet. They were an art historian and a corporate CEO.

An art major husband. Edgeworth's throat tightened, and suddenly there was an image in his head that he would have loved to forget. A man in a blue suit, a teenager in a pink sweater, a little boy in a Steel Samurai t-shirt. A friend who'd sat next to him every day in grade school, who he'd always had to save. And he'd always been glad to just that.

A friend who had saved him the year before. He swallowed hard, wondering what the pulsing feeling in his chest could mean. The recollection of the trial the year before made him want to curl himself into a ball and never come out, like a scared child. The trial that had taken a burden off his back and then saddled him with a hundred more.

Manfred von Karma was safe behind bars, but Edgeworth still sometimes thought he saw him in the faces of people on the streets or in the newspaper headlines. Since he'd moved from America, he was no longer followed by the ghost of his past, but it still sometimes reared its ugly head in his nightmares. He'd given himself a new name, a new country, he was no longer the DL-6 poster child turned into a demon. Miles Edgeworth had died in America.

And yet he picked up his phone (he'd never admit that his passcode was _phoenix_), scrolling through the contacts. There'd always been a masochistic aspect of his personality, he supposed. His breath caught as his eyes fell on one name.

_Phoenix Wright._

Phoenix Wright had come to see him in the detention center and Edgeworth had yelled at him, told him to leave him to die the way he deserved to. But Phoenix had balled his fists on the table and screamed at him right back that he would save his life because he'd inspired him to become what he was today.

It was funny, Edgeworth couldn't imagine being anyone's inspiration. He was a monster, the tabloids had said it themselves. He was no hero. He stared down at Phoenix's name in his contacts list, punched in the first two digits of Phoenix's number, then immediately shut his phone. He wouldn't let himself do this. He was dead. He wasn't going to come back from the dead and tell Phoenix he was alive, on Valentine's Day nonetheless.

Edgeworth stared at the sunrise outside his window. He'd rented an apartment facing east on purpose, he'd always loved the sunrises more than the sunsets. The time difference between Italy and America was nearly five hours ahead, it was 7 PM where Phoenix Wright was. Maybe he was watching the sunset.

That was perhaps the fundamental difference between them; Edgeworth was a sunrise person and Phoenix preferred the sunset.

His phone vibrated, and the screen lit up with a text message. The name on it was all it took to send Edgeworth into a panic.

_Hey, Edgeworth._

_It's not Valentine's Day yet, but I don't think dead men care. Maybe you can attest to that. I wonder what it's like being dead. Do you like it?_

_I wonder if you went to heaven or hell, Edgeworth. I wonder that a lot._

_I kept the note, you know. It's in the pocket of my coat and I take it out when I need to be reminded why I have to win a trial. Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death, huh? A pretty grim way to go if you ask me._

_You hated Valentine's Day when we were kids. You thought girls had cooties. I remember one time I kissed your cheek to make sure you wouldn't get cooties because I was a boy. Do you remember that? Or am I just fantasizing and willfully forgetting the bad memories?_

_Happy Valentine's Day, I suppose._

_I miss you, Miles._

Edgeworth wondered if he was dreaming. These words were ones he would have never attributed to Phoenix. He hadn't called him Miles since they were children, he'd never heard the name spoken aloud in court the year before. He was far more used to being Prosecutor Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright's rival, than being Miles, his best friend.

Suddenly he felt tears stinging at his eyes. He was Miles Edgeworth, he didn't cry. But yet the words 'I miss you, Miles' burned his brain and made his throat tighten. With a heavy heart, Edgeworth typed in the only text message he could muster.

_This number is no longer in service. All messages will be simply forwarded to your data plan. Contact AT&T for more information._

And, then, his hands shaking:

_Happy Valentine's Day, Phoenix Wright._

He really hoped Phoenix used AT&T. What followed were a number of short, confused texts full of question marks and Phoenix rambling about how he used Verizon so why was AT&T texting him, he'd call his data plan and how might it have known his name, and was it Miles' ghost come back to haunt him? Edgeworth felt a smile playing on his lips, and for once didn't force it away as he set his phone to do not disturb and then shut it off.

Later that day, he called Gumshoe and told him he'd return soon, since he'd learned of business that he'd left unfinished in America that required his attention.

* * *

><p><strong>personally i dont like valentines day very much, but maybe edgeworth does. happy valentines day, i'm sorry i couldn't write something fluffier. <strong>


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